


Scorched

by quietpastelcolours



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Smut, basically an au based off Junkrat's HotS demon skin and Symmetra's Goddess skin, basically an excuse to write demon smut, demon/goddess au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 09:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12208230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietpastelcolours/pseuds/quietpastelcolours
Summary: When Junkrat, a feared demon, finds himself trapped into signing a contract held by a goddess, he has no idea what's in store for him...





	Scorched

Junkrat was hunting.

His prey was oblivious below him, watching the mortals passing below _her_. She was floating, invisible to mortal eyes, yet her light had called him to her presence. He’d sought her out, curious to see what a goddess was doing in _his_ territory, and had found a goddess waiting for him.

It promised to be a very good day.

He had taken the form of a swarm of cockroaches, and had spread himself out over the building above her in order to watch, taking her in through his many eyes. He loved taking on light – oftentimes they kicked his arse but just as regularly he utterly defeated them, taking their light to be devoured. The first rule of demons was they had opposites, light to balance the darkness that festered within.

Junkrat was a demon, a being who delighted in shadow and darkness, of cruelty and torture, who bathed in fire to feel the burn and liked nothing more than entrapping helpless mortals in his deals, setting them up to fail so he could devour their souls.

In this modern age, he went hungry more often than not, for superstition had fallen out of favour and desperate people no longer sought to make deals with demons anymore, and it was all very frustrating. It made the sparse deals he did make all the sweeter, but inside, he ached from hunger.

This goddess would fill him up quite nicely, however.

The many cockroaches that housed his consciousness rubbed their feelers together, and Junkrat scuttled a little further down the wall, testing her boundaries. She seemed utterly at ease, perfectly relaxed, and so he revelled in his sneakiness, his ability to get this close to her without her being able to tell.

She was a looker, that’s for sure, and he’d have fun picking apart her bones – she was quite gorgeous, actually, and his gaze lingered on her length of her legs and the generous swell of her hips for longer than he probably ought. Still, what was the harm in looking? Especially since in an hour or two, she’d be dead and he’d be feasting.

The one good thing about losing a fight to someone like her was that they generally abhorred killing. He’d spent more time than he cared to remember locked away inside sealed circles, but rats were tricky, clever creatures, and Junkrat prided himself on being just as sneaky as his namesakes.

He always escaped eventually.

Even if this one defeated him and banished him from this mortal plane, (a prospect that made the yawning chasm inside him ache from hunger) he’d still be alive and he’d still have his wits about him, and no matter how many more centuries he had to wait, he’d escape and he’d find someone to bind their soul to his contracts to he could add in the trickiest of clauses and when they had failed to fill the terms, feast at his leisure.

But how to go about it? He’d lost the last encounter with one like her, and spent close to four centuries gnashing his teeth and plotting revenge, _determined_ that his first feast upon escape would be upon the one who’d locked him away. He’d escaped at last, having used the tiniest fraction of his magic in order to manipulate a silly little girl playing at being a witch. A good amount of neo-pagan ‘spells available in this century were little more than aesthetic and the placebo effect, and the mortal hadn’t had a clue the ritual he’d walked her through was a summoning. She hadn’t taken the proper precautions – she hadn’t summoned him from inside a protective circle. She hadn’t summoned him into a circle of his own, bound at her feet until the contract was signed, and though he’d _wanted_ to devour her soul, he’d satisfied himself with blowing all the lights in her city out as he escaped into the cool night air.

He’d found the mortal world very different than when he’d left it – they’d invented machines, and kept going until they had abilities almost like the magic he has used to impress, to lure desperate souls into his traps.

It was little wonder, in this well-lit, healthy world, that people didn’t turn to demons nearly as often as they did. They still turned to their gods, though, and didn’t _that_ piss him off – the goddess below him _glowed_ with vitality. People believed in _her_ , clearly. People called creatures of her calibre different things – angels, divinities, spirits, and maybe they didn’t make offerings to them in elaborate dedicated rituals like in the days of old, they still thought well of lady luck, they still prayed to whichever god was in vogue, and these paragons of goodness _ate that shit up_. It was enough to make him feel sick with jealousy. He wanted people to believe in him. He wanted people to sign away their souls to him the way he was sure people did for her.

After escaping from his binding (a few decades ago now, he realised), Junkrat had gone hunting for the one who’d trapped him – he’d even forgone feasting upon the foolish little mortal who’d set him free in order to truly relish ripping into the god who’d trapped him, but much to his fury, he’d been too late. That particular god had been devoured barely a decade after trapping Junkrat, and he’d vented his fury by shredding that interfering bloody demon into a fine red mist.

He, or rather, the cockroaches that housed his consciousness, skittered in place, laying the foundation of his trap in their minds. Junkrat changed forms, morphing from clusters of cockroaches into a single mangy plague rat – how he longed for the days of yore, when dirt and misery and disease ruled – he’d had many delightful centuries revelling in the filth and the desperate, scrounging people who would offer up their souls in the hope of a better life. Instead, the bloody mortals invented medicine and decent food and clean living and it infuriated him, because they were _content_. Content mortals didn’t make pacts with demons.

Junkrat scuttled onto the ledge of the building and dug his grimy claws into the brick, nose twitching in interest as the goddess moved. He liked her human form – some liked to appear exactly as a mortal, some liked to be utterly monstrous, and some liked to be human, but other. This goddess fell into the third category – she was all long legs and delectable hips, flashing eyes and the kind of smile that screamed superiority. What made her decidedly not moral, however, was her teal skin, her elaborate headdress and her clothes, cream and gold and elegant enough, yet not at all what mortals wore. What intrigued him most was the string of shrunken skulls she wore hanging from her belt, which he saw for the first time as she straightened from her lazy lounging and drifted down to land on a rooftop. Skulls at her waist? He couldn’t recall any other beings of light that wore any such things, and all at once, mere hunger turned to intrigue. Perhaps this light had a streak of darkness.

All at once, he burned to know more… and that was his first mistake.

Junkrat had planned to spring his trap while she was watching the meandering mortals on the footpaths below, but now his curiosity was piqued, and so he hung back, watching as she changed her form, becoming a swallow that gracefully dived down towards the street and then settled into flight. Junkrat, now deep in pursuit, leaped off the skyscraper in rat form and changed to hawk mid-drop, powerful wings beating as he followed the lithe little swallow as she dipped and dived, threading her way through the skyscrapers.

That was his second mistake.

 They flew for hours, and he watched the city centre fall away and the suburbs disappear behind them, and then, out in the depths of the country, she began to descend. Junkrat had lingered behind, often letting her get right out of his sight, dipping down into trees and cloaking himself within his most powerful glamour – he had no intention of getting spotted before he was good and ready.

Not a sign did she give of being aware of his presence, so Junkrat was feeling dangerous cocky and pleased with himself by the time she alighted in the window of a depilated barn, and he hid in the bushy branches of a distant tree, watching as she hopped about, clearly taking in the sight of the nearby abandoned homestead, with its caved in roof and tangled shrubbery – mother nature was making a credible effort of reclaiming her land. The goddess in swallow form hopped about for another moment and then darted into the barn through an open window.

Junkrat transformed into the smallest fly possible and followed, alighting on the sill of a different window, and peered inside. She was back in human form, and he watched through multifaceted eyes as she slowly unhitched the skulls from her waist and laid them on the ground, then dipped into a small pouch and made a thick circle of salt, which she stepped into and knelt. She then picked up the string of skulls, and neatly arranged them in a circle around her, each grinning skull balanced neatly on the salt. Junkrat watched these goings on with interest – part of him felt incredibly suspicious, but then again, it didn’t look like any binding ritual he’d ever seen. In fact, he’d never seen anything quite like what she was doing.

Candles were produced and laid to the side, as were little sachets of fragrant herbs, for healing and for otherwise, and then she took some white chalk and began to inscribe a scrolling, sprawling sigil around the outside of her circle of salt in thick, deliberate lines. Junkrat stared, fascinated, taking in the sigil as it took form, and noting several points in which the pattern became circular, surrounded by intricate knot work, and decided that those would surely be where the candles would reside. Junkrat congratulated himself when, sigil complete, she laid aside her chalk and placed the candles exactly in the notches where he’d thought she would. He had a lot of experience with rituals. This one… the skulls, the salt, the shape of the sigil… he hadn’t seen this before, and that made him want to find out more. In fly form, he rubbed his little hands together absently and twitched his wings. He took a step forward as she began lighting the candles, and then another, and another…

That was his third mistake.

The moment the flame of the lighted taper caught the wick of the last candle and held, a _boom_ whistled through the air like a shockwave, a bomb blast gone off in front of his face. Caught entirely by surprise, fly Junkrat tumbled arse over head through the air, and as he attempted to spread his wings to try and check his fall, he was somewhat disconcerted to realise he couldn’t move his wings. In fact, he couldn’t move anything. As a fly, he was light enough to make the fall to the ground fairly uneventful in the area of being killed by the impact, though as an mostly immortal demon, he really needn’t have worried anyway.

He lay there in fly form, raging away in his mind until footsteps caught his attention and he stared, panic starting to mount as the goddess reached down and scooped his prostrate form into a small glass vial. Stoppered with a cork inscribed with a binding sigil, Junkrat glared up at the rim of the vial and would have screamed his fury, if it were in his fly form’s power to do so, and then the instant the stopper was in and the sigil briefly flashed gold, he found he could move again. The goddess carried him back into the barn and put his vial on a swathe of black velvet lying on a half rotten timber table. Junkrat glared up at her as she methodically wrapped the vial in velvet, obscuring his sight, and just as she laid the last fold across the vial, she looked down at him and smiled.

Now alone (sort of) Junkrat gave way to his fury. He flew about the tiny vial at top speed. He rammed into the cork. He crashed into the glass. He tried to gnaw through the vial. He tried spells, he tried curses, he tried enchantments and invocations. He tried setting her on fire with his mind. He tried to return to his mortal form, he tried creating a laser beam of pure hatred to melt the glass, but nothing worked. He was trapped.

Junkrat threw himself down to the bottom of the vial and folded his wings neatly, half sulking, half plotting. Whatever binding magic she was using, it was strong, but this vial surely wasn’t going to be his prison for the next several hundred years, was it? Junkrat envisioned centuries stuck as a fly and became enraged all over again. He could hear nothing but his own furious buzzing, and the inside of the vial was so pitch black he couldn’t even see his own feet.

Time passed, though he couldn’t be sure how much time, and when the goddess eventually unfolded the velvet and lifted the vial, Junkrat was lying limply at the base, wings sprawled untidily around, legs akimbo.

He didn’t really think playing dead would work, but he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing him buzz around angrily at her. A most undignified form, the fly. Peering through the thick bottomed glass, he realised she’d been hard at work during his time spent in velvet – in addition to her original salt based circle, most of the old timber flooring was covered in intricate sigil work, dotted here and there with lit candles and smouldering braziers of herbs. The goddess knelt inside her salt circle and then, holding the vial out in front of her, dropped him.

The instant the vial hit the ground and shattered Junkrat surged upwards in a cloud of seething hatred, taking the form of billowing, acidic smoke that burned with all the fury contained within him. When he tried turn tail and flee (there was no shame in escaping such an obviously powerful goddess, he’d decided), he hit an invisible wall, and screamed in fury.

Binding circle, _binding circle_ – he was trapped. _Again_. Seething with rage, Junkrat let his smoke coalesce into his favoured mortal form and glared at her. She seemed utterly unperturbed, kneeling there looking calm and collected as she coolly met his gaze.

“Settle down, would you?”

He seethed and pettishly ignored her, all but glowing from hatred. He summoned his smoke, letting flames scorch the floorboards beneath him until the air inside his binding circle shimmered red hot from heat. Still, she merely looked at him, her calm expression never wavering for a moment.

Obviously, she was waiting for him to stop. That meant, maybe she wanted to talk to him. Junkrat made the connection and abruptly stopped his display of power, sinking down to his feet to eye her curiously. If she wanted to talk… maybe she wanted something from him. And if she wanted something… that was power he had over her. A cruel smile twisted his lips and he shoved his hands into his pockets and tipped his head back, jaw set arrogantly.

The goddess was silent for a few moments, evidently watching. When she was satisfied with his silence, she lifted her chin slightly.

“I have a favour to ask of you, demon.”

A favour…? His interest was firmly piqued.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell y’not t’make deals with the devil?” He drawled, shifting his weight to get a better look at her. Her mouth tightened almost imperceptibly, and he was pleased to have garnered a reaction, no matter how small.

“This isn’t a deal.” She said flatly. “Or rather, it won’t be one sided, like you no doubt would prefer.”

Junkrat screwed up his mouth. “What are y’terms?” He said finally, aiming to keep her talking while he explored the boundaries of his binding circle. It seemed pretty solid as of now, but all he needed was one single flaw to exploit…

“I need a partner.” She said flatly, and when he leered at her, she looked disgusted. “Please keep your head out of the gutter. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I like the gutter.” Junkrat was, on the whole, feeling rather entertained. He wanted to see if he could rile her up. She looked like someone he could rile up, and… people who were flustered and angry made mistakes, and mistakes were all he needed to free himself.

She flicked him a cool glance. “No doubt.” She turned slightly, and he was disappointed to see her carefully avoid the edges of her own protective circle – stepping outside it would leave her vulnerable to his attack.

“What’s the favour?” He asked again, trying to keep things on track. If it was a deal she was after… why would a goddess make a deal with a devil?

“I have need of a partner, like I said before.” She paused to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I have a… mission, you might say. It will be dangerous. I need someone who is a distraction… and someone who knows how to steal.”

It took him a delicious second, but then he tipped his head back and cackled. “Ooh, this is too good.” He bounced on his toes, delighted. “What mess are y’embroiled in? Tell me everythin’, I wanna know it all!” He tipped his head to the side, curious. “Y’look like someone… I dunno. Very by the book. What have y’done wrong?”

To his extreme delight, a flicker of emotion crossed her face. “Never you mind.” She snarled, and he grinned.

“I see. An’ thievin’ is gonna help?”

She bared her teeth, but relented. “Not directly, no. What you will do is give me access to what I need.”

Junkrat thought for a moment. “Well, y’got y’self a deal!” He said brightly, spreading his hands wide in a gesture of good will. “I accept y’offer. Lemme out an’ let’s get crackin’.”

She only eyed him for a moment. “You are willing to work with me?” Her voice was cool and _damn him all to hell_ , he liked her accent. “I thought I’d have to work harder to convince a demon of _your_ calibre to accept.”

He shrugged. “Eh, gets me outta this bloody circle.” Junkrat was of course lying through his teeth. He wanted out of this circle… and then he intended on sucking the marrow from her bones.

She narrowed her eyes. “Of course. Then we only need tend to the contract.”

 _Damn and blast._ He’d been hoping he might have been enthusiastic enough that she would forget about signing things and making pacts – then he’d have more rein to betray her.

“If y’must.” He mumbled irritably. The corners of her lips turned up as she held out a hand to take the parchment that floated abruptly before her, and then Junkrat was forced to wait for ten boring minutes as she perused the article, clearly checking and double checking for mistakes.

Finally, she waved her hand again and the contract flashed into his circle, and Junkrat seized it greedily.

“Those are my terms.” She said. “Accept, or remain in the circle.”

Junkrat grimaced – obviously, he didn’t have a lot of choice. Still, he read through the contract very carefully, seeking any mistakes, any loopholes he could exploit… to his utter frustration, he found none. This goddess knew what the hell she was doing, sadly for him.

Her terms were simple, yet ironclad – by signing he would not be able to harm her in any way, shape or form – try as he might, he couldn’t find any inconsistencies, no ambiguous clauses, no omissions, flaws or faults that would allow him to do what he wanted to her. Junkrat gritted his teeth at this realisation – if he signed this, it would be impossible to contradict. He wouldn’t be able to lay a finger on her, though interestingly enough, she seemed to have stressed that only fingers that intended violence would be repelled – Junkrat gathered that if he touched her with friendly intentions, the contact would be permitted. He had the sudden, absurd vision of himself making a courtly bow as he helped her from a carriage, her own small fingers resting neatly in his own, and he snorted loudly. What a fool he was sometimes – he still hadn’t entirely gotten used to this modern age.

Junkrat let himself fall backwards, reclining exaggeratedly on a pillow of air, the better to take his sweet time reading the contract.

Of course, she had bound him entirely to her will, yadda yadda… such _originality_. He rolled his eyes in disgust and thought wistfully of the day when someone would present him with an _interesting_ contract, something that he hadn’t seen before.

He finally got down to the nitty gritty details and raised his brows when it registered just what she wanted him for. Thievery and distractions? For what purpose? To what end? What could she possibly mean to steal that she couldn’t get herself? No… _distractions_. Perhaps… no, she clearly meant for _him_ to take the blame.

Sneaky.

He liked that. 

Junkrat finished reading the contract, and though he certainly didn’t like how ironclad the terms were, he couldn’t deny he didn’t have much of a choice. Still, a deal was a deal and deals were made to be broken.

He raised his gaze to her and took in her tense form – clearly, she was nervous that he would find something in her words to exploit. He hadn’t, but she didn’t need to know that. Junkrat let out a giggle, a laugh that strengthened the longer it went on, and he looked at her through lowered lashes, thoroughly enjoying her discomforted expression. When he opened his eyes properly her face went blank, and oh, he enjoyed that. She was going to try to hide her emotions… well, he’d have fun dragging her thoughts from her, kicking and screaming.

He let go of the contract and let it float before him, then stuck his thumb in his mouth and bit down, piercing his flesh with his sharp canine. Junkrat shook the bleeding digit before him until the freely flowing blood had coagulated into a sphere that floated to the side of the parchment. He stuck his thumb in his mouth again and licked the wound, enjoying the fierce pain as his venom washed over the wound and sealed it shut.

Drawing a smoky quill from the air, Junkrat dipped it in his blood and took his sweet time signing the document, making his signature as scrolling and elaborate as he could. When he was finished, the quill dissipated and he waved his hand, making the parchment appear before the goddess as his blood splattered the ground.

She took the contract and studied his signature, then lifted her gaze to his and scowled. Junkrat blinked in shock when the parchment caught fire and burned rapidly to ash that fell at her feet, and then a new contract formed to hover before him.

“Your name, if you please.” She said coldly. “If you think I am stupid enough to believe your name is _actually_ Junkrat, then you think me more a fool than I am.”

Junkrat grimaced at her. “Most people do.” He muttered peevishly, and she smiled almost cruelly.

“I’m well aware.”

 _Damn it all to fucking hell_ – that was the one thing he might have had over her. He hadn’t used his true name in _years_ , fuck her, and he’d taken pains to find the people who might have known, and eradicated them. How the hell had she found out?

Screwing up his mouth in distaste, Junkrat summoned his smoky quill again and dipped back into his blood, and hesitated before he signed _Jamison Fawkes_ to the parchment.

The quill disappeared and the contract’s power thrummed through his blood, binding him solidly to it, and he sighed in pleasure – perversely, he _loved_ the feeling of being bound. It was a sweet promise of the joy to come. The contract appeared in front of the goddess and she narrowed her eyes at the noise he’d made and then examined his signature. Satisfied, she plucked a small silver blade from the air and made a neat incision at her wrist, and caught the blood that dribbled out in a crystal inkwell. Junkrat eyed the vial hungrily – there was a lot you could do with someone’s blood, and even the miniscule amount in there would slake his thirst, if only a little.

He watched as she dipped a quill of her own into her blood and signed neatly, precisely, and then as her quill vanished he felt it – the binding of his soul to hers and it wasn’t a bad feeling precisely – it was hunger and it was growing.

Junkrat licked his lips.

The parchment rolled up into a scroll that vanished in a wave of light – no doubt she was putting it somewhere out of his reach. He bounced excitedly, for now everything had been attended to – she would have to let him out.

The goddess eyed him thoughtfully for a moment, and then her gaze flickered down and an invisible finger carved a line through the salt, breaking the circle. His full power came flooding back and Junkrat screamed towards her in a cloud of smoke and ash and fire, lighting sparking through the air as he let himself lose control –

“Stop.”

The word was calmly spoken but it felt like she’d shoved a hook down his throat and pulled his insides out, and just as abruptly as he’d started he stopped, coming to rest in front of her with a hateful glare. Junkrat  was pleased to note that the barn had been entirely demolished – the walls were flattened and broken timber was scattered around like a bomb had gone off, and furious to see he hadn’t even manage to stir a hair on her head.

Turning back to the goddess, he grinned at her as she raised a single, unimpressed brow.

“Worth a try.” He shrugged, and grinned wider. “So, what are we stealin’?”

“Nothing, just yet.” She turned on her heel, cool as a cucumber, and left him standing there, utterly confused.

Junkrat chased after her with a scowl. “Wait! The bloody contract – y’said-” He paused. “You… breakin’ the terms?”

“No.” She said quite coolly, making the excitement inside him deflate. “You misunderstand. I still have planning to do. It will be a little while before I require your… talents.”

Junkrat eyed her and let himself dissolve into smoke for a moment. Reforming in his favoured mortal form, he scowled.

“So what’s the point of lurin’ me out here now?” He sounded irritated, and that was because he was.

She flicked him a smile. “I don’t believe in last minute decisions. I’ve researched you quite thoroughly, and-”

“Y’have?” He interrupted, now feeling a bit creeped out. He’d thought he’d been watching her, but… had she been watching him? For how long?

“I have.” She confirmed. “Long enough to confirm my expectations. You suit my purposes, Jamison Fawkes, and nothing more.”

He glared at her, the use of his real name making his stomach clench. “An’ then what?”

She merely smiled, and the string of shrunken skulls floated off the ground and back into her hands. He eyed them, first impatiently and then suspiciously, and then… hesitantly, he reached out and touched one. Pain and fear howled through him and Junkrat jerked his fingers back like he’d been burned. He stared, first at the skulls and then at her – she’d suddenly gotten a lot more dangerous, for she was wearing demon skulls as a belt.

“We shall see.” She crooned. “You may prove your usefulness. If not…”

The implication was very clear – if he failed to please, she would kill him and add his skull to her belt. He grimaced.

“Fine. What now?”

 

* * *

 

Junkrat found himself being taken to an abandoned warehouse, where the goddess seemed fairly content to just watch him, evidently thinking. Bored with her lack of conversation, Junkrat turned into a plague rat again and scampered about in the warehouse, exploring. He discovered that she’d warded the living hell out of it, essentially turning the entire warehouse into a giant binding circle.

Having snuffled his nose along every border to be found and having explored the larger nooks and crannies, he scurried back over to her and looked up, whiskers twitching. Junkrat switched forms, letting himself grow and expand until he was back in his mortal form, relishing the feeling of horns bursting through the skin of his scalp, and he offered her a grin. He liked his mortal form – he’d modelled it after what mortals tended to think demons looked like, and though his true form was indescribable, he did kind of prefer his mortal form. He had fingers in his mortal form. Fingers, horns, crimson skin and glowing eyes. He did like scaring the shit out of particularly devout mortals by appearing in their mirrors in this form.

She merely raised a brow at him. “You ought to have stayed a rat.” She said, turning on her heel. “Better looking, at any rate.”

Junkrat laughed delightedly – she had a sharp tongue, and he _loved_ that. He followed her along, hands in his pockets.

“Got an adder for a tongue, love, but I don’t mind.” He grinned at her when she tossed him a sharp look over her shoulder. “‘Sides, can’t go pretendin’ yer any better.”

Now she was looking at him properly, her expression haughty and just the tiniest bit offended.

“And are you going to explain what you mean by that?”

“Yeah.” Junkrat sauntered closer, straightening his spine and drawing himself up to enjoy the feeling of towering over her. To her credit, she held her ground. “Yer a good lookin’ sheila, I’ll give y’that, _but_ -” He emphasised, “-that’s all fake, innit? Ain’t what y’ _really_ look like.” Like him, in her true form she was something that couldn’t even be seen by mortal eyes – their tiny minds couldn’t even _begin_ to comprehend the true horrifying beauty of things much beyond their reach.

She smiled arrogantly. “Is that all? I thought you had something worthwhile to say.”

She turned and walked off, leaving him seething, and then the ache in his guts got more pronounced and he groaned quietly to himself. It’d been… a long time since he’d fed, and now this bitch of a goddess meant he wasn’t going to be able to feed for the foreseeable future. Worse than that… the hunger always increased when he had a contract bound – it was a kind of Pavlovian response to his body’s assumption that he would inevitably feed upon his contractor. It was enough to try ripping her tendons out, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to touch her.

“What’s y’name?” He called. “What am I callin’ ya? Woman? Bitch? Mistress? Dunno ‘bout you, but I prefer the second one.”

“You may call me Symmetra.” She said coolly, taking hold of an ancient tome that appeared in mid-air. A hint of a smile appeared then. “But I wouldn’t object to ‘mistress’, either.”

Junkrat eyed her suspiciously, ignoring the latter half of her sentence. “That ain’t y’name.” He said, and she didn’t look up.

“It’s what you may call me.” She repeated as she flicked through the yellowed pages of her book, and he had no choice but to accept it.

The gnawing hunger within him caught his attention again, and he eyed her speculatively. “Still haven’t told me what I’m here for.”

“I know.”

Junkrat ground his teeth and tried a different tack. “So what’s the plan? How’re y’keepin’ me?”

Symmetra looked up at that. “… _Keeping_ you?” She sounded a little puzzled.

Junkrat headed towards her. “Yeah. Y’seen mortals, right? They get a little animal, fuzzy ones, usually. They buy ‘em. They keep ‘em. Call ‘em pets. Take ‘em on walks an’ feed ‘em an’…” He trailed off, and spread his arms wide. “Bought _me_ , technically. Bloody contracts… I haven’t done a deal with one of _you_ before an’ I wanna know what’s gonna go down. Y’own me now. Y’gonna keep me?” He’d reached where she was standing and got right in her face. “I’m _hungry_.”

Symmetra made an ‘ah’ sound, as though everything made sense. _Good for you,_ he thought sourly.

“I have no intention of setting you loose on the general populace.” She said coldly. “I’m afraid you will just have to make do.” She turned to walk away, and with a frustrated snarl in the back of his throat, Junkrat reached out to grab her arm, not to hurt her, but to turn her back around. He’d _meant_ to continue arguing his case but when fire scorched his fingerprints and lanced up his arm, he ripped his hand back and stared at her.

He… hadn’t been expecting it. Or rather, he knew what it was but… he’d never felt it outside of a fight, so he hadn’t been expecting it now. It wasn’t that the terms of their contract had prevented him from touching her – if it had been the contract, he wouldn’t even have made contact. He’d touched her, though, and she’d burned him just like in a fight. For some reason, he’d rather subconsciously assumed that touching a goddess in peacetime would be painless. _Huh_. He supposed he was wrong. Junkrat looked at his hand and flexed his fingers meditatively, then looked curiously at her.

“Did _you_ feel that?” He inquired, and her expression turned amused.

“I did.”

“Huh.” Junkrat flexed his fingers more. “What’s it feel like t’ya? Same as me?”

Symmetra’s expression turned calculating for a moment, and then she smiled. It was a smile that made him feel quite strange in the pit of his stomach; it was predatory. “I feel warmth.” She said, advancing upon him. “Fire. _Heat_.”

Something was curdling in the base of his stomach and he couldn’t quite muster a response as she lifted her hand and trailed it down his chest, sparking flames as she went. His eyes shot wide when her fingers hooked into the waistband of his pants, having dipped slightly below his bulky belt.

“I presume from the look on your face that you haven’t done this before.” She cooed, sounding delighted, and Junkrat’s brows snapped together, inferring from this that she _had_ and what kind of goddess was this, anyway?

“What?” He asked, a little defensively, and she laughed a husky little laugh that made the flames dancing over his skin deepen, broadening as she wiggled her fingers slightly. “What d’ya mean? What are y’doin’?”

“There is a way to feed without feeding.” She said with an opaque smile. “For demons, at least. _My_ kind have no use for this method.”

“What method?” He growled, for her fingers were scorching his flesh, tucked into his waistband like they were, dangerously close to his cock, and he couldn’t work out what she was _doing_. Junkrat imagined the sensation of such dangerous fingers wrapped around him for a moment and had to close his eyes briefly. Surely she didn’t mean…

“ _Tsk_.” She said reprovingly. “I can’t believe you’ve never even heard of it. I thought you dabbled in all manner of vices.”

“I _do_ , I… ooooh okay.” Junkrat tried to protest but she stepped in close, pressing herself against his form and setting him alight. It was like his entire front was on fire as she pressed against his chest and smiled up at him, her fingers wiggling a little deeper past his waistband.

Symmetra made an amused sound. “I have heard mortals say a similar thing about their stronger spirits, that it mightn’t fill you up, but it will make you forget that you’re hungry. I always thought it was a rather apt analogy. I cannot let you feed, but I can take the edge off your hunger… if you are willing.”

Oh. _Oh_. Junkrat eyed her for a moment. “I’m willin’.” He said tersely, and tried to subtly rock his hips forward, desperate to feel her fiery touch lower down. A smile told him she hadn’t missed it.

“Well, I can’t have you distracted by hunger when the time comes.” Symmetra sounded thoughtful, teasing him with the knowledge she might yet refuse. “So perhaps I will help you. You see? This is a deal of mutual benefits.”

“Huh.” Junkrat eyed her thoughtfully. “Have you ever…?” He asked doubtfully. “I haven’t done anythin’ with anyone like you. Unless I’m eatin’ ‘em for breakfast.”

She made a displeased noise. “I’m aware.” Symmetra reached up, curling her hand around his neck to tug him down till his nose almost brushed hers. “Just because you are ignorant-” She breathed. “-doesn’t mean that I am.” She paused to give him a particularly wicked smile. “I’ve had dealings with demons before.”

Junkrat had meant to protest, to ask her what the hell _that_ meant, and if the poor bastards she’d ‘dealt’ with were the ones hitched to her belt and if so was that his fate? Because if so she could get fucked – but she tugged him down further and slanted her lips over his before he could. He gasped and moved closer, desperate to feel more because she was _right_ – with her kiss came a heady rush of fire and burning, and it was enough to quench the hunger in his guts. He needed more of her, and so he clasped her in his arms and held her close, relishing the burn.

It was like his skin was blistering beneath her touch, and from the pained yet excited little gasp she let out, he knew she felt the same. Junkrat was a demon… someone of his ilk, someone born of darkness, couldn’t touch a being made of light without searing his flesh. What he hadn’t known was that the burning could be deliciously sweet.

Seeking more, he wrenched his mouth from hers and ducked beneath her chin. The breathy little gasp she let out when he sank his teeth into the smooth skin of her shoulder made his cock twitch and there wasn’t any going back now.

Junkrat had fucked plenty of people over the millennia – mortals, mostly, and other demons. He had, however, never fucked a goddess, and he was quickly beginning to question why, because as well as all the tempting softness that a mortal might have, her touch burned like fire and he was swiftly becoming addicted.

Symmetra pushed him away then, turning with a come-hither smile and walking towards a rickety old desk, a remnant of when the warehouse had once been fit for human habitation. Junkrat followed, aching and desperate, confused and wondering if she had changed her mind or not, and then when he registered that she was reaching up to remove her headdress, excitement thrummed through his form.

“Want a hand?” Junkrat let his hands skim over her waist, enjoying the feel of bare skin scorching his palms until he reached her top, which seemed to fasten behind with an assortment of pins, which he beheld in puzzlement and then cautiously tugged one.

“Don’t touch.” Symmetra moved out of his reach, her smile so incredibly alluring it took all he had not to leap at her in an effort to extinguish the blaze deep in his belly. Having removed her headdress, she started in on her bracelets and other jewellery and finished up with a slow, seductive strip tease that just about had him on the floor. When Symmetra, by now fully naked, stepped forwards and pushed at his chest until he tipped over backwards, coming to rest floating in the air before, she stepped in and straddled him, the warmth of her centred right over his cock.

Junkrat groaned and rocked his hips up, wishing he’d had the foresight to strip off while she’d been doing do, but he’d been entrapped by her gaze, unable to do anything but stare as she languidly removed her clothes.

Symmetra trailed her hands along his chest, leaving tendrils of fire in her wake, and as he tried to grasp her shoulders and pull her breasts down to his face, she grabbed his wrists and in a deft motion, pinned them above his head with a soft bite of his ear and a gentle order not to move. Junkrat stared at her and then growled at the realisation of her haughty expression - she was in control. He didn’t typically have sex like this but he was so hungry he’d take her any way he could – and with a goddess like this? Well, he didn’t think he wasn’t going to enjoy it. Symmetra rocked her hips gently over his, applying just the right amount of pressure over his cock to make him grind his teeth, a mounting groan in his throat. With a throaty, arousing laugh, she removed her hands from his wrists and with a warning glance he left them there, watching and burning as she turned her attentions lower.

She moved down his thighs so she could have access to his shorts, and though he mourned the loss of her warm heat overtop of him Junkrat couldn’t deny that the intrigued expression on her face as she traced her hands over the prominent lump in his shorts before she tugged down the zipper and took his bare skin in her hands. Junkrat arched his hips, an involuntary moan in his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deep, because surely nothing could compete with this, with her hands stroking up and down his cock and spreading fire over his skin – Junkrat managed to crack open his eyes and look down, the sight of her small teal fingers sliding over the crimson flesh of his hard cock surprising him somewhat because by rights, he was hot enough there ought to be physical flames dancing over his skin and he was sure he’d combust at any moment –

Her touch disappeared from his length and he jerked his eyes open, a cry of disappointment choking in his throat as she rose up before him, gloriously naked, her long hair sliding over her shoulders to conceal her breasts and give him tempting glances of her nipples as she moved. Symmetra settled right against him and _fuck_ if Junkrat thought he was burning before, it was nothing compared to the feel of her, wet as hell and red hot against him as she rocked her hips, sliding the length of him through her slick lower lips.

Junkrat was intrigued to note that she had an abundance of hair between her legs, a damp curly black forest that he ached to bury his face in but then she rocked her hips sharply up and rode her wetness across the tip of him and a strangled cry stifled in his throat as he forgot himself entirely and lurched upwards, gripping her hips and sinking her down on his cock. Wetness and heat enveloped him as she made an indignant noise and he muffled his cry in her shoulder, his grip hard enough to bruise on her hips as he tried to force himself deeper. Fuck, her heat was scorching – flames licked along his cock and the pain was addicting so he rocked his hips sharply upwards, seeking more. A sharp pain at the back of his head made him pull back from the fiery nook of her shoulder because it wasn’t the incredible sex pain, it was a savage yank, a _some-bitch-is-ripping-m’hair-out_ kinda pain and a little of his euphoria faded as he took in her expression – one of serious displeasure.

She twisted her fingers harder in his hair and he bowed under the weight of her anger.

“What part of ‘don’t move’ didn’t you understand?” She snarled, and he blinked.

“I forgot-” Junkrat furrowed his brow and trailed off into silence because Symmetra seemed _really_ pissed off and he didn’t really understand why and he couldn’t think properly anyway because his cock was buried in that burning wet heat and all he wanted to do was fuck her – she bared her teeth at him as she took hold of his wrists and placed them above his head again, and Junkrat giggled a bit as he deliberately moved, settling his hands back on her hips to see her angry expression deepen. Symmetra grabbed his wrists again, yanking them back over his head as her nails bit deeply into his flesh, and when he giggled to himself and let his hands drift back to her body to trace over her ribs, brushing her hair aside so he could see those fantastic breasts –

Symmetra left him very suddenly, so quickly he was left with his hands suspended in the air and a stupid expression on his face. Junkrat stayed still for a moment, gawking at her as she strode away, her form crackling with irritation. His brain caught up with things then and he registered that yes, she’d left and no, he hadn’t found his release and _was she trying to kill him?_ Scrabbling to his feet, Junkrat bounded along after her, pausing to scramble out of the shorts tangled around his thighs and though there was something very undignifying about scurrying after a woman with his hard cock bouncing freely in the breeze, this was an emergency because she’d been quenching the hunger inside him and now she wasn’t and he thought he might actually be the first demon in history to die of blue balls, because from the set of her shoulders and the look in her eye he doubted she meant to fuck him anytime soon and he was a fucking _idiot_ , why couldn’t he keep his fucking hands where’d she’d put them because she _obviously_ liked being in charge-

Junkrat peered at her, biting his lip as he wondered what exactly to say.

“Sorry?” He tried, and she raised an unimpressed brow. “Uhm…” He continued. “Uh, won’t do it again. Promise.” This time, the raise of her brow was sceptical, and he nodded quickly. “ _Promise_ promise.”

She took a step towards him and lust roared in his blood, making him feel dizzy. He wanted her – he needed her to fulfil the hunger inside him. Taking another step forwards, Symmetra reached out, her fiery touch landing on his chest and making him ache with the urge to touch her. Junkrat stood still, watching her, fingers curled into his fists in an effort to control himself.

“Don’t usually do this.” He said by way of explanation, feeling that he _must_ explain or she’d come to the wrong conclusion. “I don’t – I’m usually the one leadin’.” Looking down, Junkrat could see her small fingers inching their way down his chest, and then she abruptly dropped her hand and wrapped her fingers around his girth, and the sight of it made him feel weak in the knees. The blaze roaring through his blood and over his skin didn’t help much either.

“I had thought so.” Symmetra’s gaze finally moved from his face and Junkrat watched her as she watched her own hand sliding slowly up and down the length of his cock, her fingers rubbing deliciously over the head of him and smearing the pearly white fluid beading at the tip over his skin, and it was all he could do not to tackle her to the floor. She looked up then, vivid golden eyes boring into his. “But you won’t with me. I won’t allow it.” A hint of a cruel smile crossed her face then. “You play by _my_ rules-” Symmetra gave a particularly pleasurable twist of her wrist and he groaned, and then his eyes flew open in shock as she released him. “-or not at all.” She finished, and he stared at her for a second.

“Roight, fine, okay, just – _please_.” His voice was small – Junkrat _never_ begged, but he was so damn hungry and she was so fuckin’ incredible and he felt like he’d _die_ if he didn’t bury himself deep inside her.

Symmetra’s smile was one of triumph and Junkrat _hated_ the power she had over him but then she moved in and tugged him down to her height, her naked breasts pressed hard against his chest and setting him ablaze as she kissed him, her hand stroking his cock again and he couldn’t think of why he didn’t like her anymore because she filled his senses completely.

Junkrat very cautiously laid his hands on her waist, not wanting to just stand there like a statue but also _very_ unwilling to send her running again, and when she didn’t object he shifted his metal hand a fraction higher, smoothing over her lower back and when she didn’t object to _that_ he went a little higher, gaining more of her body inch by inch until he had his metal arm wrapped tightly around her waist and his good hand buried in her hair. Symmetra didn’t seem to object to him holding her like this, just making out, and he was having trouble reminding himself that he’d have to keep his hands to himself at some point but maybe she’d changed her mind and he wouldn’t?

Their kiss very quickly devolved into something like a fight and as hair was pulled and lips were bitten and blood was smeared between them, Junkrat could barely recall having a better time. He supposed that was another bonus of fucking a goddess – she could take a lot more than a mortal could. With her, didn’t have to hold back – and they weren’t even fucking yet. He could hardly wait. Symmetra pulled back then, and Junkrat forced himself to remain still, to not go after her, because he was only getting hotter and if she didn’t put the fire out he _would_ die-

She pushed him back onto his back, and this time he was on the floor, an old nail digging painfully into his shoulder. Junkrat wiggled it out and tossed it away and then, hesitating slightly, put his hands above his head.

Symmetra’s smile wasn’t triumphant, like he’d dreaded – it was aroused and _utterly_ pleased. Heat flared in her eyes as she bit her lip, gently sliding her hands up along his arms until she had curled her fingers lightly around his wrists, as though she enjoyed the sight of it.

“Don’t move.” The words were soft, almost a moan, and Junkrat was swiftly realising that maybe having a woman order him around wasn’t so bad, after all. After releasing his wrists, Symmetra cupped his jaw with her hands and kissed him, fire scorching through his skin at her touch. She moved as she did so, one hand snaking down between them to take hold of his cock, making him gasp, and then Junkrat groaned in sheer pleasure as she settled atop him, that soaking wetness sinking him over and causing fire to shoot through his veins.

He was very bad at keeping his hands to himself – Junkrat writhed, caught between agony and ecstasy as she fucked him, riding him slowly, torturously. He kept going to reach for her and each time, would remember and snatch his hands back above his head, and each time, Symmetra would muffle a snicker with her teeth sunk into her lip. She wouldn’t let him get close – she would speed up and his heart would pound, his breath short, but then she’d change her pace and slow down, grinding deep or lifting off him all together and it was _maddening_ , because the hunger gnawed at him and all he wanted was release-

Junkrat whimpered as Symmetra slowed to a stop atop him, feeling the blaze of her touch bone deep. He opened his eyes as she traced a finger along his jaw and when she had his attention, she slipped that hand between her own legs. Junkrat stared, mouth ajar, watching as she pleasured herself atop him, her gaze locked to his, and when she began to move once more, in quick little bursts that wrenched tiny cries from her, he revelled in the hedonistic pleasure of it – of being a tool, something used purely for her pleasure. It wasn’t something he’d experienced before but _fuck_ , he didn’t mind it.

He could feel it, the shudder within her as her breath got shorter and her movements more urgent – Symmetra’s eyes had slipped tightly closed, her face a mask of pleasure, and Junkrat groaned as she sank deep, grinding down on him and letting him feel every tremor as she pushed herself over the precipice. Symmetra sank down over him, her hand squeezed tight between her thighs as she trembled, burying her face in his throat. As much as he was dying to lower his hands to her back, Junkrat kept them above his head, and wrung them in desperation.

When she had ridden out her orgasm and composed herself once more, Symmetra straightened and gave him a haughty look. “Your turn.” She said simply, readjusting herself atop him and bracing her hands on his chest.

“Oh, thank _fuck_.” Junkrat said in a rush, arching his hips up in an effort to coax her into movement. Symmetra gave him a smile tinged with amusement, and then Junkrat had to squeeze his eyes tightly shut because she wasn’t teasing anymore. Up, down – his whole awareness was centred around the slick slide of her along his cock, and she sped up her pace, riding him hard.

Junkrat dug his hands into his hair in an effort not to grab for her hips – her wetness slicked him up and down, the pressure intoxicating and the deep throb of her orgasm driving him higher. He was slicked with sweat and on fire with each pass of her hands over his chest and _fuck_ , she felt so slick and tight and red hot around him and it was more than he could bear – Junkrat came with a kind of gasping, a bone deep throbbing coursing through his form as he emptied himself within her.

Symmetra gently slowed to a stop atop him, her expression thoroughly satisfied, and she sat still, his length still buried deep within her as her thoughtful gaze raked over his face.

“Still hungry?”

It took Junkrat a moment or two to piece together her words – fire crawled through his veins still but he felt a bone deep wariness topped with utter completion. He licked his lips briefly as he assessed himself, and to his intense delight, he found that… he wasn’t.

“No. I – uh, _no_. What the fuck?”

Symmetra smiled at his surprise and gracefully climbed off his person, rising to her feet.

“I told you.” She called briefly over her shoulder, before she collected her clothes and moved towards a door. “Get dressed. I have a job for you, later.” Junkrat stared after her for a moment, watching as his seed smeared the inside of her thighs as she walked, and when she’d disappeared through the door, he shook his head in bemusement and got up to find his shorts.

Whatever he’d expected to happen from this binding, it sure as shit hadn’t been this.

**Author's Note:**

> listen I can't justify this in the slightest, I've always liked the juxtaposition of demon junkrat and goddess symmetra so when rat's HotS skin was revealed it was a sign from above (to write more smut)
> 
> so seeing as I'm incapable of not world building, please enjoy this bunch of demony ideas smushed together to excuse smut lmao 
> 
> also junkrat being a literal rat in this has given me ideas, stay tuned for more rat based oneshots


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